I know we’re halfway through January and I’m just now trying to form coherent thoughts about everything that’s hit my world over the last few weeks—but bear with me.
My word for 2026 is intentional.
I intend (no pun intended) to keep that word front and center as a reminder that life only happens to me if I let it. If I hand over control of my emotions and thoughts to the things that scare me, then I’m the one who pays the biggest price. And since my emotions and thoughts have been in a pretty steady free fall since before Christmas, I clearly need that reminder.
Someone once said—at least Fred repeated it often—that when life stops changing, you get about the business of dying. I know that. Even with as much growth as I’ve had in therapy, change still rocks my world. Nothing triggers my depression and anxiety faster than everything around me shifting for reasons I didn’t choose and can’t control.
Right now, I’m standing in the middle of massive change and chaos at work and last week Lilah was diagnosed with a soft tissue sarcoma. Either one of those alone would be enough to shake me. Both together have left me struggling to function… or even want to get out of bed.
Professionally, after almost 15 years in this place, I know I’ll be fine. Eventually.
Right now? I’d rather not be around anyone. I’m not fit company, and my patience is nonexistent.
My brain feels like someone dumped a bucket of ping-pong balls inside my head and then said, “Function as you normally would.”
Sometimes in life, you just get tired of operating at 200% when everyone around you struggles to hit 75% or to care as much as you do. But slacking off isn’t how I’m wired—no matter how bad I’m struggling. That’s the thing that keeps me being overlooked. Amy will always rise to the occasion no matter what.
And that’s exhausting.
Re: Lilah.
She is my baby. The other half of my heart.
We’ve lost so much in the last year—dog-wise—to cancer. Our vet firmly believes the surgery scheduled for the 23rd will put this monster to bed, but the fear is still there. We’ve already said goodbye to Paris and Hope because cancer and tumors won.
Does anyone really blame me for being just a little resistant to the idea that everything will be rosy?
I’m not sure any of this even makes sense, but the urge to get it out of my head and into written words was stronger than my need for polish. I’m carrying so many emotions right now.
Anger is at the top of the list. I’m tired of giving everything I have and being overlooked like paint on a wall.
Worry is right there with the anger.
Fear and anxiety have joined the line.
Tim would tell you depression is here too—and I know he’s right.
But circling back to my word.
Intentional.
I’m going to be intentional about how much I give.
Intentional about what I carry.
Intentional about where my energy goes.
Intentional about protecting the parts of me that are worn thin but still standing.
I don’t have answers. I don’t have clarity. I don’t even have peace right now.
But I do have intention—and for now, that’s enough to keep me trying to move forward.
Blessings y’all – Amy
